


Cry and Hope

by directium



Category: Camp Camp (Web Series)
Genre: Angst, Blood, But it takes place in a torture room, Emotional Hurt, Guilt, Hostage Situations, Implied Character Death, Insults, Not Torture, This is real mean, mentions of killing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-24
Updated: 2017-06-24
Packaged: 2018-11-18 11:37:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11289936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/directium/pseuds/directium
Summary: He could only do two things while trapped down there. Until he could only do one.





	Cry and Hope

**Author's Note:**

> (Based on an AU on Tumblr where Daniel returns and disguises himself as David, only instead of the focus being on Max trying to convince everyone that Daniel's a fake, it's focused on David being trapped while Daniel carries out his plans).

There were two things that David could do while trapped in the basement of his mentor's old summer home.

Cry and hope.

It had (probably) been a few days since he'd woken up down there, no longer in his warm bed back in the counselor's cabin. Instead, he'd been greeted by the sight of a number of well-used torture devices, and the little light on the desk at the far corner of the room to keep him from being in complete darkness. His arms were tied behind his back and to the wall behind him while he was kneeling on the cold ground. There were no windows to let him know the time of day, and as far as he could tell, no clocks on the wall. No way to know for sure how long he'd been down there.

Of course he'd been scared. Confused, terrified, hopeful that this was some kind of terrible nightmare that he'd wake up from at any moment.

But then Daniel had entered the room, the dim light making his smile cold and sinister. At first, David had been happy to see him. Surely he'd been there to rescue him, right? The two of them could get out of here before whatever horrible person who had done this would return to finish the job. _Right?_

Wrong. Wrong. So wrong.

Daniel's smile had grown wider at the sight of him awake. David had begged, pleaded for him to untie his arms. His pleas were cut short as his eyes adjusted to the dim light, and he could get a good look at Daniel. Gone was his perfectly white and clean outfit and blonde hair. Instead, he now wore a disturbingly familiar counselor's shirt (it was only then that David realized his own shirt was gone), and the matching pants and boots to go with it (luckily, those had _not_ been gone from David's body). And his soft, blonde hair was now a familiar shade of red that matched David's own.

Naturally, David had questioned this. Told Daniel that what he was doing wasn't funny; that he was really scared and he just wanted to go back to the camp. Daniel had laughed at this, while his smile grew so wide that it could have made the Cheshire Cat blush. It was the first time he'd called David an idiot. How he'd been so foolish, so naive, so unwaveringly trusting even when he'd been mere seconds away from killing every child in the campgrounds. How a ten-year-old had been able to catch on to his plans, but a twenty-four-year-old still believed that the Kool-Aid had simply gone bad on its own and that everything leading up to that point had been simple camp activities.

But of course, David didn't care about that, did he? It was only the camp that mattered, right? David had felt his heart sink while Daniel told him all this in such a disturbingly comforting fashion, as if he were a parent telling a child a bedtime story. Gentle tones mixed with horrible, degrading, cruel words. David had never _truly_ cared about the kids, had he? If he had, then he would have trusted Max's warnings about hiring a cultist, instead of brushing them off and insisting that Max had simply been misbehaving. He would have removed Daniel from the campgrounds, thrown him in jail, kept him as far away from everyone as possible.

But he didn't.

And that was the first time David cried. Cried hard as Daniel removed the little yellow shirt from around his neck, laughed a cruel laugh at the 'Camp Campbell' logo printed on the front, and easily tied it around his own. Cried as Daniel promised to return with food for him, with the additional promise that he would finish what he started at Camp Campbell, this time without some meddlesome counselor to distract him with song.

And then he was gone, leaving David to cry some more.

Cry, but keep his hope.

The hope that someone, _anyone_ would catch onto Daniel's plans. That Max (good, wonderful, _smart_ Max) would once again know something was wrong. That he would catch on right away that Daniel was a wolf in sheep's clothing, and work to put a stop to his plans. He was so smart, smarter than David had ever been at that age.

Smarter than he was now.

The guilty feeling that this was all happening because of David's own foolish decisions was so strong, strong to the point where it would keep him crying. Crying until he eventually drifted off to sleep. An uncomfortable-yet-safe sleep, where he could dream himself far, far away from this place. Where he could be a better counselor to all of them. Where he could fight off horrible, pale figures that were trying to harm them. Where they were all safe and happy.

But the dreams always ended, and he'd wake up in that dimly lit torture room, his wrists sore and aching from being tied up for so long and his heart heavy.

Daniel had promised to keep him alive, his reasons being that he needed _someone_ for the police to arrest after he completed his plans. And sometimes David would awaken to see him seated at the desk in the far corner of the room, playing a chilling tune on his violin.

David's heart had only grown heavier when he had first realized the tune. It'd been _their_ song. Their little musical duel, which David had so foolishly believed was all in good fun. That Daniel's insults and taunts had simply been in the spirit of the battle.

But looking back, all of them had been Daniel's true feelings. And Daniel knew that the song would only rub salt in David's wounds. That it would hurt on top of everything else.

So David could only cry again as Daniel played louder.

Cry, but keep his hope.

Surely the kids must have noticed the switch by now. Surely _Gwen_ must have noticed. David knew that Daniel hadn't killed anyone yet, for Daniel would go on and on about how particular and carefully laid-out his plan was and how he'd wait until a very specific point to begin the murders that David could have prevented (more salt in the wounds).

They still had time.

And David would keep hoping, through every tear he shed.

Until the day that Daniel returned to the room, his smile wide and a familiar blue sweater in his left hand. With a laugh, he had held it up for David to see clearly. So much blood now covered the front, and David could see several tears in the fabric. And Daniel had bragged and boasted about how it didn't matter how smart Max had been, how he had easily caught on to Daniel's plan and tried to warn everyone else that David was missing, he had still been a defenseless ten-year-old at the end of a knife. And children were easy to kill without someone there to protect them.

And David had cried.

Cried as Daniel tied the sweater around his neck, the final rubbing of salt in his wounds. Cried as Daniel left again to finish off the rest of the campers. Cried as he let his face fall against the sweater's soft fabric, while the smell of blood surrounded him. Cried as he let muffled apology after muffled apology spill from his mouth, as if Max was still there and could hear him.

Cried as he once again drifted off to sleep, his dreams no longer safe and happy.

There was only one thing he could do now while trapped in the basement of his mentor's old summer home.

Cry.

**Author's Note:**

> I feel real bad after writing this.


End file.
